Spring Morning by Frances Darwin Cornford

Like to islands in the seas, Stand our personalities -- Islands where we always face One another's watering place. When we promenade our sands We can hear each other's bands, We can see on festal nights Red and green and purple lights, Gilt pavilions in a row, Stucco houses built for show.

But our eyes can never reach Further than the foolish beach, Never can they hope to win To the fastnesses within: Rocks unsealed that watch the sky And the tormented clouds go by; -- Darkest forests full of gleams Ever-passing; -- pouring streams; -- Chasms where a Monster lowers; -- Sweet and unimagined flowers.